Holy cow. The entire time I slogged painfully through this book, I imagined myself as a therapist, listening to the most self-absorbed, overanalyzing, dreary, grating rich kid one can possibly imagine. No depth or personality whatsoever. After each session, I felt a visceral need to slam my head repeatedly against a wall just to remind myself that I'm still alive. Oy! I never did figure out where the family romance came in. There was nothing romantic or even particularly loving about any of it. Just another dysfunctional family with a son who takes everything personally when so little had anything at all to do with him.